


On Edge

by wannnabesuper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Bittersweet Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, discussion of suicide, oc offscreen character death, slowly falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannnabesuper/pseuds/wannnabesuper
Summary: Every time they meet, Remus gives Sirius a new ridiculous reason for having been on the cliff where they met.Part one is two idiots bantering and sleeping together while they fall in love (happy bit). Part two is Sirius learning why Remus was really on the cliff (sad bit).





	On Edge

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this started with a story comedian Sean Locke told about wanting to have a peaceful walk on a cliffside and being interrupted by some volunteers who spent a couple hours every week trying to talk people out of throwing themselves over the edge. From there it kind of...spiraled.

PART ONE

It was, Sirius reflected, an absolutely perfect day for a sulk. If members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could be said to do anything so common. Then again, now that Sirius had been disowned, a whole range of new behavior was open to him. With that in mind, he settled his naturally haughty features into petulance and slunk his way towards the edge of the cliffs. Slinking was another previously forbidden action, and Sirius found he rather liked it.

The cliffs were beautiful, a stark drop from a moody, empty field into a moodier, emptier ocean. The low-lying plants – Sirius  had no idea what they were other than ‘probably not grass’ – were mostly dark green with occasional flowers in appropriately muted colors, and the whole scene had a delightful smell of lavender, greenery, and ocean. There was a light mist in the field, thick enough to muffle the sound and create the illusion of isolation without creating a real possibility of getting lost or tumbling off the edge.

Over the water, the mist was thicker, but Sirius could still see the steely water crashing into the cliff face. In the distance, a lone seagull cried. Sirius actively reminded himself to stop being so pleased with the textbook broody atmosphere so he could properly get on with his sulk. There was a bit of damp on the ground, aiding Sirius’s mood by thoroughly chilling his toes, and making footing a bit treacherous. Sirius discovered this treachery when a voice had the gall to interrupt his pensive silence with a “good morning.”

In what he was sure were his last moments, Sirius squawked out a dignified “bloody hell,” windmilled his arms, and sent a mental curse at his mother for somehow undoubtedly being the cause of his untimely demise.

“Er. all right, then?” the stranger asked after a prolonged silence. He was several inches taller than Sirius, thin but wiry. He also smelled nice, like aftershave mixed with ocean air. All of which Sirius could notice because instead of plunging to his watery death he was clutched firmly to a tweed-covered chest. Honestly, who wore a blazer to the cliffs? Sirius’s dramatically billowy black trenchcoat – possibly impulse bought specifically for this trip – was clearly much more thematically appropriate. The poorly dressed stranger had saved Sirius’s life, though, so he thought it would probably be decent to stop squeezing the life out of the man.

“Good morning,” he belatedly replied, straightening himself up with all the dignity of a highborn man who hadn’t just almost fallen off a cliff or hugged a stranger. An attractive stranger, Sirius realized, taking in brown windswept curls and worried honey-colored eyes. Sulking entirely forgotten, Sirius favored the man with his most flirtatious grin. “I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”

The stranger blinked, hands still hovering at Sirius’s shoulders as if uncertain that he’d completely gotten his footing back.

“You wouldn’t have needed much saving if I hadn’t given you such a fright,” he demurred. His accent was lovely and Welsh and fit the surroundings beautifully. His stupid coat should take notes, Sirius thought, reluctantly grateful for the decades of etiquette training that let him keep up a normal conversation instead of blurting out his every thought.

“I should have known better than to stand so close to the ledge,” he countered. The stranger frowned.

“You weren’t by the ledge on purpose, then?” he asked tentatively.

“Well, I wanted to see the sea,” Sirius admitted, manfully not smirking at his unintentional alliteration.

“…up close?”

Finally the man’s meaning dawned on Sirius.

“Are you trying to ask if I’ve come here to throw myself off the cliffs?” he asked incredulously. The stranger had the grace to blush a bit.

“You’re not from here, and honestly there’s not much else to do out here.”

“You’re suggesting that your town’s main tourism draw is suicide cliffs?”

“No!” brown eyes widened in surprise. “It’s just, it’s not exactly a common time of year for a holiday, and there’s literally nothing out here in this field but the cliff. Which is a known suicide site.”

“That’s morbid,” Sirius remarked, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You say there’s nothing out here.”

“Except the view, and that when it’s not foggy.”

“You’re out here.”

“I’m hardly a tourist attraction.” Sirius was tempted to say the man was attracting him plenty, but found his curiosity irresistibly piqued.

“You’re still clearly out here,” he countered.

“Maybe the council got sick of the suicides and hired someone to patrol the cliffs.”

“That… that sounds like an incredibly depressing job.”

“What job isn’t, when you get down to it?”

“That’s even MORE depressing. Aren’t you supposed to be cheerful?”

“If you’d come out here intending to end things, do you really think you’d take kindly to someone being cheerful at you?”

“I think I’d be willing to do a fair amount to make you smile.” Curiosity satisfied, Sirius shifted fully into flirtation mode. Taking this handsome, somewhat dour man back to his hotel would certainly be a high note for the weekend. To his surprise, the man offered up a half-smile at the remark.

“Including leaving the cliffs?” he asked, and Sirius boldly shifted closer.

“Would you leave with me?”

“I’m not done out here,” the stranger said, sounding resigned. Sirius shrugged.

“I have a book. I can wait, for a bit. Room six, at the Meadow Inn. If you fancy stopping by.”

“I’m HIV positive,” was the next, much less expected remark. The man looked like he expected to be punched for his admission, which didn’t say anything nice about the gay hookup scene around here. Sirius hadn’t been about to bareback a stranger, but he appreciated the man’s honesty.

“Better to tell me now than later,” Sirius said casually. “Bring condoms.” The man looked even cuter staring at Sirius in astonishment. With a final once-over (from under his lashes, an angle he had been assured was devastating), Sirius turned and swept across the field back towards the road into town. Fortunately, the handsome man appeared to be out of sight when Sirius’s lovely billowy coat got caught on a bush and nearly pulled him over backwards.

 ***

“So what are you doing here, really?” the man asked idly, shifting to escape the smoke from Sirius’s cigarette. He’d given his name as John, but with enough hesitation that Sirius didn’t believe him. The illicit thrill of a holiday fling with a stranger made Sirius give his own name as James, but he didn’t see any reason to lie beyond that.

“My best mate’s getting married,” he said, hating how forlorn he sounded.

“So you’re out here skipping the wedding?” ‘John’ asked, mildly reproachful.

“No, of course not, he just asked me to clear out for the weekend so he could propose,” Sirius scoffed.

“Then why did you say he’s getting married like it means your world is ending?” Sirius startled, not appreciating the way this man could apparently see right through him.

“It’s not ending,” he said defensively. “It’ll just…be different.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying, you could have gone anywhere and you chose to come…here. Where the biggest attraction is a broody cliff edge.”

“Honestly I didn’t exactly have a destination in mind,” Sirius admitted. “I stopped here mostly because there was the sea in the way of going any further and I couldn’t be arsed to turn.”

“Convincing,” John deadpanned.

“Look, I’m not in love with Ja- Jack,” Sirius hastily recovered, remembering at the last second that he was using James’s name as his own. “He’s just been my best friend since we were kids, been there for me through a lot, and once he gets married it won’t be the two of us anymore.”

“If he’s been there for you through a lot, you’re probably stuck with him,” John said pragmatically. “Doesn’t sound like he’s aiming to ditch you for his new wife.”

“I KNOW,” Sirius whined. “And I’m honestly thrilled he’s getting married. Evans is pretty great, for a bird. I just…”

“Need to take some time to be sad for what was before you can be happy for what will be?” John suggested when Sirius trailed off.

“Exactly.” Sirius looked at his bedmate quizzically. “How did you get so wise? Is it all the time walking on the cliffs?”

“Perhaps the sea air.”

“I know another thing the sea air is good for,” Sirius purred, stubbing out his cigarette and shifting closer.

“Hmm?”

“Does wonders for the refractory period.”

  ***

The tryst had been an unexpectedly pleasant addition to Sirius’s weekend away, but neither man expected to see the other again, a fact they hadn’t even tried to avoid. They’d parted ways in the motel, the Welshman leaving early while waving off Sirius’s teasing about having cliffs to patrol and lives to save. Sirius had put the town in his rearview mirror, ready to face the new reality of Sirius-and-James becoming Sirius-and-James-and-Lily. Because if Lily thought she wasn’t essentially marrying both of them, James had not adequately explained the situation.

Four months later, Sirius had relegated his memories of the weekend to a seldom-frequented corner of his mind, a pleasant daydream to pull out when nothing more interesting was on offer. He was no longer even completely certain which parts of the weekend had happened and which parts had come from his imagination, and his companion had been reduced to an impression of tweed and soft curls and beautiful accent, still patrolling the cliffs of his tiny seaside town. Which made it all the more surprising when Sirius decided to try a new club and found a familiar face working behind the bar.

“Hello,” he greeted wittily, too surprised to come up with a better opener.

“Evening,” the other man greeted distractedly, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! Hello.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” Sirius said with a grin, leaning too far over the bar. He couldn’t remember the fake name the man had given him, but was pleased to note that his memories hadn’t exaggerated the man’s handsomeness.

“Of all the bars in all of London, you would walk into mine,” he replied, matching Sirius’s flirty tone.

“What are the odds I can get you to walk back out of it with me?”

“Straight to the point, I admire that.”

“Oh, I’ll take my time with other parts of the evening. When’s your shift up?”

“I’ve still got another hour,” Handsome Bartender said reluctantly. “Maybe a bit longer if things stay lively.”

“In that case, I’ll have a drink. Whatever you like making.”

“Whatever I like making?” Brown eyes widened in surprise, though Sirius wasn’t sure if it was at his request or his willingness to wait. Evidently he hadn’t made it clear enough last time what a fantastic lay this man was.

“You must have a favorite. Surprise me.” With that, Sirius settled onto a nearby stool, doing his best to project patience. It was not a trait that came naturally to him. He accepted his drink with an unnecessary amount of contact with Handsome Bartender’s fingers, pleased to note a light blush this caused.

“This is a beer,” he observed.

“You said whatever I liked!” Handsome Bartender called as he moved to serve several other patrons rude enough to want drinks while Sirius was flirting.

“I said whatever you liked _making_ ,” Sirius corrected when the other man finally drifted back over. The beer was half gone, but Sirius wasn’t in a hurry.

“Maybe I brew beer,” Handsome Bartender said.

“This is not craft beer.”

“I never said I brewed that one.”

“Has it been an hour yet?” Sirius was leaning back over the bar, thoroughly invading Handsome Bartender’s personal space. Handsome Bartender did not seem to mind.

“Remus, just get out of here already,” an exasperated voice cut in. Both men looked over to see the equally exasperated owner of said voice, another bartender making shooing motions towards the pair. They shared a conspiratorial grin and were on the street within minutes.

“Remus, is it?” Sirius asked archly. Remus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I, er, didn’t exactly expect to see you again.”

“So you gave me a false name.” Sirius was having far too much fun teasing, but he grabbed Remus’s hand to show how little he actually cared.

“Remus is a bit strange. Thought I’d go for something a touch more common.”

“I did the same,” Sirius confessed. “I’m Sirius.”

“I believe you.”

Sirius stared for a moment, trying to figure out if Remus was taking the piss. A twitch at the corner of his mouth finally gave him away, and Sirius had to drag him into the closest alley for a thorough snog.

 ***

Fortunately for their dignity, Remus insisted they go back to his flat rather than continue what Sirius started in the alley. Their weekend together (albeit several months past) meant less awkward getting-to-know-each-other fumbling and more laughter, and by the time light started filtering through the blinds Sirius was rethinking his whole strategy of never seeing casual flings again. He woke up being thoroughly cuddled by Remus, and the only thing that alarmed him was how calm he felt at the entire situation. He didn’t even think twice when Remus offered breakfast, content to bump shoulders over toast and tea. The conversation was relaxed, and Sirius eventually brought up a point of curiosity that had been nagging at him.

“So you’ve left the cliffs to another warden and decided to pursue the glamorous life of a bartender?” he asked. Remus snorted.

“You realized I’d given you a false name and still believed the cliff warden bit?” he teased. “There are people who do that, but just volunteers. It’s not a real job.”

“Well that just re-raises the question of what you were doing on the cliff then,” Sirius pointed out.

“Maybe that’s where my brewery is, tucked away on the Welsh coast, infusing my beer with that particular Welsh…”

“Sheepiness?” Sirius suggested innocently. He was forced to set aside his curiosity to defend from the vicious tickle attack caused by his suggestion. The ensuing battle eventually led to more pleasant activities and Sirius forgot the topic entirely.

 ***

“I’ll have a pint of your sheepiest beer,” Sirius announced grandly, settling himself on a barstool with the cautious grace of the inebriated. Remus looked surprised to see him, but recovered quickly, with a pleased little smile that made Sirius’s insides squiggle.

“Sheep’s out of season, I’m afraid,” Remus intoned. “The winter flavor is melted sleet.”

“That sounds so disappointing I can’t even come up with anything pithy to say about it,” Sirius pouted. “You’ll have to give me something as interesting as you are to make up for it.”

Remus smirked and turned away, leaving Sirius waiting expectantly. Two men tried to get his attention but he brushed them off, perhaps less suavely than he would have were this not his third bar of the evening. He would’ve felt bad about being so brusque but Remus came back and distracted him.

“You’re picky tonight,” Remus said as he slid a glass across the bar. “No one catching your eye?”

Sirius ignored the question to stare at his newly-obtained glass in disbelief.

“Remus.”

“Yes?” The bartender was slightly distracted mixing a drink for another patron, but he seemed content to keep up a conversation while he worked. Sirius vaguely hoped his tips wouldn’t suffer for it, but selfishly didn’t care enough to move away from the bar. Anyway, he had an important point to make.

“You’re a shite bartender.”

The man who had just received his complex mixed drink from said shite bartender eyed it warily, but left a good tip after sipping it.

“Fortunately you seem to be rather alone in that opinion,” Remus said mildly.

“I gave you a request.”

“True.”

“Were you listening?”

“You asked for something as interesting as myself.”

“Remus. You gave me a glass of milk.”

“Sorry it took so long. We don’t keep it up front.” The deadpan self-deprecation reminded Sirius, in a roundabout way, how interesting Remus really was, and therefore Sirius’s purpose in coming to the bar that night.

“When’s your shift over?” he asked, casually turning his back on a third would-be suitor. It was nice of them to notice the effort he had put into his appearance, but it would be nicer of them to realize his efforts were being directed solely at Remus.

“Honestly, fifteen minutes ago, but I couldn’t let just anyone serve you.” Sirius finally noted that Remus had indeed been wearing a jacket this entire time, and smacked his palm on the bar.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” He made a valiant attempt to chug the half pint of milk Remus had given him, but was forced to admit defeat less than halfway through.

“Hopefully not for you to finish your drink,” Remus teased, having rounded the bar. He tucked Sirius under his shoulder and led him out of the bar, unable to resist a smug little grin at the men Sirius had rebuffed in his favor.

They wandered in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Sirius noted that it had definitely taken less time to get to Remus’s flat last time. When he commented on this, Remus just raised one implacable eyebrow.

“And are we going back to mine?” he asked, sounding almost disinterested. Sirius felt himself deflate a little.

“I guess I assumed. We don’t have to if you’re not interested,” he pulled away from Remus’s arm, the chill air sobering him almost as fast as the disappointment. “Sorry, I can stop coming by the bar, I don’t want to hassle you.”

“You ridiculous man, you look like a kicked puppy,” Remus said fondly, reeling Sirius back in. “I just wanted to take the long way back so you could sober up a bit.”

“You’re still taking me home then?” Sirius knew he had perked up like the puppy Remus had just compared him to but couldn’t find it in him to mind.

“I’ve no idea why you keep coming back, but I’m inclined to say I’ll bring you home any time you come into my bar,” Remus admitted. He was blushing slightly, but Sirius thought he might be, too.

 ***

“You must be from that town with the cliff.” The remark seemed to come out of nowhere, Remus and Sirius both drifting in a sleepy post-coital haze. Remus replied with something Welsh Sirius didn’t even want to try reproducing.

“Is that the name of the town where we met?” he asked instead.

“Yes,” Remus replied, favoring Sirius with a fond little smile. “And you’re not wrong.”

“So you’re not actually a London brewer,” Sirius continued, too worn out to connect more than the most obvious dots.

“Just a London bartender.”

“You fit, in the little town,” Sirius murmured. “With your lovely tweed and curls and accent.”

“Do I not suit London?”

“I suppose you do alright here. But why didn’t you just tell me you were visiting your family?”

“Because I didn’t want to let out the secret.”

Sirius hummed, sensing Remus was about to tell him another tall tale but too content to mind.

“It was the one weekend a year that the town is visible to the rest of the world. It’s been enchanted, so when the town sleeps a year passes in the outside world.”

“Brigadoon is in Scotland, you wanker,” Sirius pointed out.

“The Scottish are always copying us,” Remus said sanctimoniously, and Sirius stared at him until the pair both started laughing. They drifted off still smiling.

 ***

“You know, if you gave me your number I wouldn’t have to come here and make everyone jealous,” Sirius pointed out, having just fended off yet another would-be suitor. He had guessed very poorly as to Remus’s schedule that night, and was therefore rather soberly nursing a pint while Remus made up excuses to stay near his end of the bar.

Remus, as usual, looked surprised that Sirius wanted even more to do with him, despite how frequently they’d been going home together over the last three months. Honestly, it made Sirius think he wasn’t doing a good enough job of vocally appreciating their time together. Which was saying something, considering the glares he’d gotten from the neighbors in the lift the morning after last time.

“I suppose that would make life easier,” Remus conceded, and easily tapped his number into the cell Sirius was holding under his nose. “Would you like me to text you when I get done?”

“Oh, am I leaving?” Sirius asked innocently. “I’m having so much fun watching you shake cocktails.”

“I’d just hate to have to charge you rent for that barstool.”

“This barstool should pay me for the privilege of being so closely acquainted with my glorious posterior,” Sirius said grandly. Remus leaned in with the expression Sirius had learned to associate with particularly filthy remarks, but straightened suddenly as another patron appeared at Sirius’s elbow. Sirius pouted briefly, but contented himself with sending lewd texts to his most recently acquired contact.

Towards the end of Remus’s shift, Sirius went to pick up takeaway to save them some time getting back to Remus’s, arriving back at the bar to see a lanky figure loitering by the door on his phone. Remus pocketed his cell with a grin just as Sirius’s text notification went off. He didn’t get around to checking it until he was on his way home the next morning, and he was in such a good mood that he actually laughed out loud in his cab.

From Remus [2:12 am]: New identity as a mild-mannered London bartender, who dis?

To Remus [9:53 am]: The bloke who aint fallin for ur act, welsh superspy

From Remus [10:04 am]: how do you sound like the queen in person but text like a state-educated high schooler?

To Remus [10:05 am]: just shows im mor versatile than u

To Remus [10:05 am]: bet u cant even do another accent

From Remus [10:06 am]: you caught me. I only moved to London because I want to sound unbearably posh when I speak. I’m only in this for your accent

 ***

Having Remus’s number, Sirius found, was an excellent life change. Not only did it open an exciting new realm of sexting possibilities, it meant Sirius didn’t have to wait until the weekends to pester his favorite Welshman. They texted so often James finally figured out that something was up, meaning he felt entitled to stick his nose in Sirius’s business. Unfortunately for Sirius, James’s recent engagement meant he had a teammate  **other** than Sirius. Lily distracted him at a key moment, allowing James to steal his phone right out of his hand.

“Who are you texting all the time?” James asked, fending Sirius off with the ease of years of practice.

“I have never felt so betrayed!” Unable to reach his phone, Sirius resorted to overdramatization, swooning theatrically back onto the couch. He conveniently landed mostly on Lily, which served her right for being conniving. She elbowed him in the head, which, to be fair, he should have expected.

“Remusssss,” James drawled, ignoring Sirius’s whimpers of pain. “Why haven’t we heard of this person? I’m going to call them.”

“DON’T CALL HIM,” Sirius bellowed, lunging for the phone again. Lily, traitoress that she was, neatly tripped him and blocked his mouth with a throw pillow. The sound of ringing indicated James had put the call on speaker phone.

“Hello?” Remus sounded delightfully Welsh and polite. Sirius immediately regretted not having called him every day since getting his number, just to hear him pick up the phone like that. “Sirius?”

“Not quite but close enough,” James said delightedly, joining his fiancée in using Sirius like a bench so he couldn’t get the phone. “I’m James, undoubtedly Sirius has mentioned me in one of his ridiculously frequent text messages.”

“If you’re the recently engaged best friend/brother who’s not as suave as he thinks he is, then yes,” Remus answered, managing to endear himself to Sirius even more. “Is Sirius there?”

“He’s a bit occupied,” Lily said, cheerfully continuing to suffocate Sirius with the throw pillow.

“Is that the fiancée who’s alternately too good for and not good enough for the beloved best friend?” Remus asked. Lily beamed.

“That’s Lily, yes,” James answered. “Which means you know far more about us than we know about you. Who are you, mysterious Remus? And why does Sirius look so daft when he texts you?”

“He looks daft when he texts me?” Remus sounded pleased.

“You understand our concern,” Lily chimed in. “He can’t really afford to look much stupider.”

“Wait a minute, are you Welsh? Did Sirius meet you in Whales? _Are you the reason he came back from his weekend away looking so smug and relaxed_?” James looked like he regretted his sudden insight.

“I should hope he looked relaxed,” Remus said, giving Sirius a brief flash of panic that his normally shy partner was going to say something Sirius would never live down. “The seaside is quite relaxing, I do guided meditations by the ocean.”

Sirius changed his mind, Remus should have talked about the sex.

“Guided meditations?” James repeated delightedly.

“Well there’s not much to be done in such a small town.”

“Are you trying to tell us that you and Sirius have been texting about _meditation_?” Lily asked incredulously.

“So sorry, I do have to be going,” Remus said abruptly. “Lovely chatting, Namaste.”

The silence after the call ended lasted approximately two seconds before the trio erupted into scuffles. Sirius finally got the pillow off his face, allowing him to add to the din James was already causing by gleefully yelling “Namaste.” Eventually they wore themselves out, Lily managing to end up on the couch while the two men sprawled on the floor. Sirius had gotten his phone back, meaning he was free to text Remus a long string of middle finger emoji.

“Really, though, we’re glad you’ve got a new …meditation teacher,” Lily said, sincere until the last two words. Sirius was about to say Remus wasn’t actually his anything, but got distracted by a text notification. Remus had sent back a kissy face emoji.

Maybe Remus was his something after all.

 ***

Given the force of nature that was Lily Evans, it wasn’t long until Remus was regularly joining them for assorted millennial activities like brunch and making wedding crafts “even though you promised we were done with this DIY nonsense, Lily, I’ve somehow superglued my hand to the table AGAIN, why can’t we just buy our decorations?” Remus slotted into the group perfectly, so when Lily mentioned him being Sirius’s plus one to the wedding, no one batted an eye.

Remus brought it up that night, nestling in to Sirius’s overly luxurious sheets. The first time the pair had gone to Sirius’s, Remus had spent nearly an hour scolding the other man for coming to his subpar flat for nearly six months when his “obnoxiously comfortable” bed was only a twenty minute Tube ride away.

“Are you sure you don’t mind my going to James and Lily’s wedding?” he asked, plugging his phone into the charger he kept on the nightstand that was, by this point, essentially his.   

“It would be weird if you didn’t, I think,” Sirius replied absently. “They’d miss you, for sure.”

“And you?” Remus was clearly aiming for teasing but couldn’t erase all the insecurity.

“I’d be devastated.” Sirius, in turn, had also overshot teasing for blatant honesty. He scrambled to recover. “The only problem is figuring out what to tell people when they ask how we met.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Well, I still don’t know why you were out by that cliff.” By this point Remus had given him so many ridiculous answers Sirius thought he might be disappointed by the truth. True to form, Remus smiled mischievously.

“I was obviously performing my solemn shepherding duties.”

“You didn’t have any sheep.”

“I didn’t say I was a good shepherd.”

“So, due to the loss of your sheep, I managed to seduce you away to the razzle-dazzle of London?”

“Sounds plausible.”

“Except one bit."

"Which bit is that?"

"The one where we were in Whales and couldn’t find any sheep.”

 PART TWO

A hopeless romantic, James had endeavored to set their wedding date for exactly one year from his proposal. Real life interfered, making it much more practical to hold the wedding the weekend before. Caught up in the hustle and celebration, it wasn’t until the couple had left on their honeymoon (and he had slept off quite a hangover) that Sirius realized he and Remus also had an anniversary, of sorts.

“We should go to the seaside,” he announced, feeling much more alive after multiple cups of coffee. Remus, still midway through his first cup, grunted quizzically in response.

“It’s been a year since we met,” Sirius explained. “We should take a little getaway. Go back to that field, maybe.” Caught up in musings of a proposal of his own – not quite yet, but maybe soon – Sirius didn’t notice Remus paling.

“I, er, I’m actually going back this weekend,” he said softly. Sirius snapped out of his daydreams to stare.

“Alone?” He tried to sound less stung than he felt.

“Actually, it might… maybe you should come with me.”

“Don’t feel like you have to invite me,” Sirius heard himself getting snippier but couldn’t seem to rein it in. Remus, wonderful creature that he was, put a hand over Sirius’s and calmly repeated himself.

“Sirius. Come to the seaside with me.”

***

Things were still a bit off as they neared the coast in Sirius’s rented car. Remus had planned to take a train and a bus, which Sirius had flat out refused. Still feeling strange about his last-minute inclusion on the trip, Sirius had hoped for Remus to draw him out of his sulk, but his boyfriend only got quieter as they went further west.

“Don’t turn here,” he said, breaking nearly an hour of silence as Sirius slowed to take the turn for the inn where he had stayed last time. Remus was looking at something on his phone, fidgeting like he was nervous. “There’s a community center about three kilometers down the road. I…I need to go there.”

“Remus, what is going on?” Sirius asked, proud of the measured tone he managed. “I still don’t know why we’re…” He trailed off, the letter board outside the community center abruptly making their purpose clear.

**MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR TREVOR VANE SATURDAY 6PM**

Sirius had known, more or less, that his boyfriend was from this tiny Welsh town. He spoke, occasionally, of his parents still living by the sea. Having been disinherited from an exceptionally cold family and subsequently adopted into a suffocatingly loving one, Sirius no real frame of reference for how normal it was that Remus never mentioned talking to his parents – or anyone else back home – on the phone, or going back to visit. Walking into the well-occupied community center, Sirius was hit with the reality of Remus really being from this small town. Whispers rippled out from the entrance before the door had fully shut behind them.

“Is that Remus Lupin?”

“Has the Lupin boy showed up, then?”

“Did Hope mention he was coming?”

“Fancy him showing up, all this time away.”

“Let’s hang our coats,” Remus suggested, hunching in on himself as if he could disappear through sheer willpower. Unsure how affectionate Remus was willing to be in front of such a clearly judgmental crowd, Sirius lightly bumped his shoulder as they turned away from the coat rack. Remus grabbed his hand like it would save him from drowning.

“Remus?” Unlike the whispers, this voice was clearly meant to be heard. Moreover, it sounded almost friendly.

“Moira,” Remus greeted, leaning in for a half hug without letting go of Sirius’s hand. Moira was a heavyset brunette around their age; Sirius guessed she and Remus had gone to school together.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, one hand still companionably on Remus’s elbow. “You look well.”

“You too,” Remus said, his grip on Sirius relaxing slightly. “How are the little ones?”

“Bigger every day, you know how it is,” she said cheerfully, then frowned. “Or, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“And he’s not likely to find out, carrying on as he is,” another voice cut in. Remus visibly swallowed.

“Hello, Father.” Sirius startled, feeling suddenly woefully unprepared to meet his boyfriend’s parents, only to sigh in relief when he saw the white collar worn by the man in question.

“I see you’ve learned nothing,” the priest said coldly, and Moira seemed to fluff up like an angry cat.

“Now see here, Father,” she began, but was interrupted by a tapping sound coming over the speakers. A frail-looking woman at the front of the room was tapping a microphone to get everyone’s attention.

“If everyone could please be seated, we’d like to begin.” The microphone did very little to amplify her voice, which was just as frail as she looked.

“She’s like the human embodiment of a whisper,” he told Remus as they found two unoccupied folding metal chairs.

“That’s Trevor’s mum,” Remus replied dully. Clearly this was not the time for humor, gallows or no.

The fragile woman – apparently the mother of the deceased – thanked the crowd for coming, and for the support they had shown her and her family over the last year. Finally getting a chance to look at the program he had moved to sit down, Sirius realized from the dates on the pamphlet that this service was for the one year anniversary of the death.

Trevor, as pictured on the pamphlet, had been an unremarkable but not unpleasant looking young man. Had he lived, he would have been a year older than Remus.

The priest stood to address the crowd, and Remus’s grip on his hand tightened almost painfully. Within 30 seconds, Sirius understood why; the man was the worst kind of stereotype, talking about sin and hell when his congregation clearly needed words of love and comfort. Trevor’s mother was quietly crying in the front row.

“Thank you for speaking, Father,” Moira said icily, stepping in to take the microphone when it became clear that the sermon had upset Trevor’s mother past speech. “I’d like to take a moment to reflect not on theology, but on Trevor, and who he was as a person.” The Father opened his mouth as if to object, but Moira earned a spot on Sirius’s good list by steamrolling over him.

“Trevor Vane was my best friend. He was a kind person, a funny person, and this world is poorer for having lost him.”

“Trevor and I grew up together. I was always such a tomboy, I never wanted to play with my sisters, I always wanted to be out muddying my shoes with Trevor. Other boys would make fun of me, tell me I didn’t belong, tell me I wasn’t good enough to be their friend, but Trevor always stood by me.

“It wasn’t until we were teenagers that I realized why. Even when we were little, Trevor understood what it was like to be different, and to want to just be you, and to get told that you had to be another way. It took Trev _years_ to get up the guts to tell me he liked boys the way everyone said he was supposed to like girls, and I’ve never stopped regretting the first thing I said to him when I found out.

“I told him to stop taking the piss, because boys liking boys wasn’t a thing that happened. He laughed, and I laughed, and I didn’t realize until months later that I had killed a little piece of him by saying that.

“He tried real hard to be ‘normal,’ to be how people wanted him to be, and every day he had to lie he died a little bit more. Every time he had to laugh along with some slur his classmates used, every time his family teased him about getting a girlfriend already, every time he saw a couple existing and being allowed to love who they wanted, he died just a bit more.

“When I finally realized Trevor was the way he was, and had always been like that, I tried my best to love him the same as I always had. When the news got out, I tried to love him even more, because growing up in this village taught me that during tough times, we come together.

I’ve seen all of you pull together in some incredible ways. This town sent Eliza Llewellyn to America to study at the finest medical school that country has to offer. This town has sent more care packages to soldiers in the Middle East than any other town in Wales. Every year this town holds a Bonfire Night so impressive that people travel hundreds of miles to attend. But when Trevor needed this town to pull together for him, we failed.  

“Trevor Vane needed his town. He needed his family, his friends, his people. And nearly everyone turned their backs on him. He needed support and he got treated like a leper, because he had a scary disease no one wanted to bother learning more about. He needed love and he got hatred, because God made him different from most of the rest of you and you couldn’t see that he was still human just the same.

“Trevor’s death didn’t have to happen, but I hope that we will learn from it since it did. The next time someone is a little different, love them all the same. The next time someone needs help with something you don’t understand, try to learn instead of running away. The next time this town is blessed with someone like Trevor, let’s do better. Let’s be the people I know we can be, instead of the people I fear we have been.”

She continued speaking, saying something about a memorial education fund that had been set up in Trevor’s name, but Sirius was distracted by Remus practically bolting for the exit. He had gotten increasingly tense during Moira’s speech, so Sirius wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t wanted to keep his seat for the rest of the service.

Pausing to gather their coats, Sirius pursued his wayward boyfriend out of the community center, catching up to him next to the car. Remus had folded his arms on the roof of the car and buried his face in them, so Sirius draped his coat over him and stood quietly by, desperately hoping for instructions on how to help. He excelled at having lots of emotions, but did significantly worse when other people were having them.

“I should visit my parents,” Remus finally said, voice still muffled in his arms.

“Were they not there?” Sirius had kind of assumed that the crowd had represented the entire population of the village. Being from London, any population under several hundred thousand was a hazy concept to him.  

“They don’t get along well with the Vanes,” Remus muttered, pulling himself together and getting in the car. “You don’t have to come in. They probably won’t like you.”

“Remus, darling,” Sirius couldn’t help flippantly replying. “I excel at parents not liking me. I’d rather be with you in front of some hostile parents than alone in the car.”

Remus managed a weak smile, and so it was Sirius found himself being introduced to a significant other’s parents for the first time in his adult life. As predicted, Hope and Lyall Lupin did not appear pleased by his presence. To be fair, they seemed quite uncertain what to do with their own son.

“Will you have tea?” Hope asked after introductions had been made. Sensing that he might be left alone to handle the small talk, Lyall quickly butted in that they should all head to the kitchen while the kettle was on.

Everyone seemed to tacitly agree they should drink their tea as fast as possible, so Remus and Sirius were on their way within the hour. Sirius figured they would go back to the inn, but Remus quietly requested that they go back to the field where they had first met.

Remus stayed uncharacteristically silent as they made their way across the field, which was dry and pleasant and not nearly as brooding as it had been at Sirius’s first visit. The sea twinkled merrily in the sunlight, which seemed somehow disrespectful.

“Trevor wasn’t my friend.” It was the first thing Remus had said in a while, but the actual words startled Sirius more than the noise. He hummed encouragingly, and Remus finally started talking.

“We were the only gays in the village. At least, the only two we knew about. He was a grade ahead, and I remember when he first kissed me, I was so scared and so amazed. I hadn’t even thought of it as an option, the education laws were so strict that I didn’t even know boys kissing boys was a thing. I still don’t know how he figured me out, he never would tell. He used to go to a summer camp, he had a kind of boyfriend there every summer they went back. But during the school year… well, it was just him and me.

“He was the one who found out about the HIV. Figured out he had it, and told me I had to get tested. We tried to sneak to a clinic out of town but I was underage, so they called my parents. Somehow, by the time we were back in town, everyone knew we were queer and contaminated.

“Sometimes I think it would have been fine at school, except our teachers started treating us different, so the other kids followed suit. It was harder for him; he had been popular. I was always quiet and bookish, but he actually had something to lose. I got a scholarship, got out of here right after school, but he had only ever wanted to take over his da’s shop. He stayed, and it got too much, and…”

“And he threw himself off the cliff,” Sirius finished, finally realizing the true significance of the cliff they were looking over.

“The day we met was the day after they put up his memorial. It’s that stone, just there.” Sirius could see the waist-high pillar of white stone a bit further down the cliff. It looked natural enough to blend in unless one knew what to look for.  

“That’s why you were so worried I was going to jump, that day,” Sirius said, and Remus nodded.

“It was rather on the brain.”

“Understandable.”

“They looked for him for weeks before his mum would let them declare him dead,” Remus said, almost casually. “She believed they’d find him. Some people – Moira and some others – even came into London, to check if he had run away and I had seen him. That’s how I found out. When I came back for the funeral, my mother hugged me for the first time in years.”

“Is that why they were asking about your health?” Remus’s health was the only thing his parents had seemed to want to talk about, never mind his work or his social life or answering his questions with any sort of depth.

“That’s how they show concern. They think that’s the kind of support Trevor needed. Mrs. Vane just tells me she’s praying for me to get ‘normal.’ I don’t know which one is worse."

“I can see why you’re not eager to come back.”

“I’m lucky I got out. For every lucky Remus there’s a half dozen unlucky Trevors, slowly dying because nobody around them knows any better.”

“It sounds like Moira is really making a difference,” Sirius pointed out. “That pastor sounds like a piece of work but she seems real capable of handling him, too.”

“Yeah, she’s incredible, she’s…” Remus trailed off, tears spilling over. He struggled for control for a moment before finally bursting out “where was that kind of support when we were kids? When we needed it?”

Sirius didn’t have any answers, so he did the only thing he could. The pair clung tightly to each other, crying at the unfairness that put them at the top of the cliff when so many others were at the bottom.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of hate this ending, because I like happy things, but the subject matter doesn't really lend itself to joy. Sex education for LGBTQ youth is still even worse than sex ed for straight youth, increasing the danger kids face by being uneducated. HIV stigma is still strong despite how manageable the virus is with proper healthcare. And organized religion, while having the capacity to do wonderful things, is all to frequently used as an excuse for hatred and discrimination. I'd love to provide all kinds of helpful links to click to feel like we're making a difference but honestly I'm kind of exhausted so that's not going to happen. 
> 
> On the plus side, these idiots are in love and will live happily ever after with lots of godkids and pets.


End file.
